He slid his mask on, shoved it up so it perched atop his head like a cap, and slipped into a long midnight-colored cloak. He looked dashing and dangerous. He was dashing and dangerous, and unbelievably appealing. I thanked the gods for fabricating the fate that had brought us together.

Giving me an arrogant grin, he gestured to his costume. “Like it?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t get cocky.”

With the grace of a wraith, he ghosted to my side. “The boat looks good. But that was the easy part.”

Crouching, I tapped the lid onto the paint tin and stowed everything under a bench in the boat. “Did Niffin find you?”

“He did. He passed along your message.”

“What do you think?”

“I think we’re better safe than sorry.”

I stared at the boat, watching it rise and fall in a hypnotizing bob. “Would you think less of me if I told you I don’t want to do this?”

“No, I would think you were smart.” He squatted and took my hand, tracing a finger along the line running through the center of my palm. “I don’t want to do this, either. Jackie Faercourt is exactly where he deserves to be.”

“We could still run. Just you and me. We could go find some secret hideaway and start a new life.”

“How long would that last before you started hating yourself? Before you started resenting me?”

Cutting him a sharp look, I fisted my hand, trapping his finger. “I’d never resent you.”

“If I let you talk me into walking away from this, you would.”

“What does, or doesn’t, happen tonight is not your responsibility. The hardest part of what we’re about to do isn’t fearing what might happen to me, but what might happen to you and Brigette and anyone else with the unfortunate luck of getting swept up in my hurricane of trouble.”

Gideon had considered me impetuous and rash, and he hadn’t been wrong, but there was nothing like taking a bullet through the heart to make a person second-guess herself. I’d been afraid before, but my fear had been a quiet voice, easily drowned out by the roar of my thunder and my need to prove myself. The lightning and I had become a loop of cause-and-effect, me feeding my will into the storms while the storms cycled their brazenness back into me. But for now, the thunder was far away, and my fear was screaming, refusing to be silenced.

He folded his other hand over mine and squeezed. “The burden of a queen is to be the one who makes those difficult choices.”

“And be the one who must live with the consequences.” Justina had said something similar. Hearing it again from Gideon’s lips made it no easier to accept. I closed my eyes, inhaled a deep breath, and let it out, long and slowly. “You said Le Poing Fermé rules Inselgrau with lethal force, right?”

He nodded. “Anyone who has stood up to them has died.”

“Then I can’t walk away from my people and abandon them to that fate.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat echoed through the garage. Brigette, also in black pants, shirt, and mask, had joined us. Hands on her hips, she gave us a wry smile. “Are we ready to go find our destinies?”

Swallowing, I nodded. “Let’s just hope we aren’t readying ourselves to go find our deaths. Or something even worse.”

“What’s worse than death?”

I stepped into the boat, careful to avoid the awning still glistening with wet paint. “Quite a few things, such as being enslaved by Jackie Faercourt.”

***

The boat’s boiler puffed and hissed as we motored into the bay. I drew in clouds to blot out the moon and obscure the stars. The lack of light concealed our approach in the event anyone happened to be watching. The gloom also made it harder for us to see where we were going, but we had a Magician helping us navigate. Already Brigette had expended some of her energy obscuring the sound of our chugging engine—an issue I hadn’t considered when formulating this portion of our plan. I just hope that the other flaws in my plan are so easy to fix.

Other flaws? Grandfather asked.

There’s bound to be mistakes in a scheme that’s basically being made up as we go along.

Aren’t queens supposed to inspire their followers with confidence?

Ask me again after I’m sitting on the throne.

As we drifted closer, the black-shadowed silhouette of the Council’s islet and domed basilica seemed to rise from the waters like a primordial beast surfacing from the deep. Gideon turned the wheel, aiming the prow toward the narrow opening between the Sea Goddess’s promontory and the Council’s islet.

Brigette lit a ball of red light bright enough to illuminate the necklace pooled in her palm.

I squinted at the fragile gold strand. “So this is it? The future of me and my nation woven into one thin strand of gold.”

“I’ve keyed it to react specifically to Faercourt. It should do everything you’ve asked me to make it do.” A pained look crossed her face, and she rubbed her temples. “I hope it’s enough.”

I pinched up the fine chain and hooked it around my neck. “You work fast.”

“I haven’t had much else to do other than play dressmaker to you and tour guide to Malita and Niffin.” She plucked two coins from her pocket and gave one to Gideon and me. “Keep these on you at all times. They should protect you against bullets, but I’m not so sure about swords, so try to stay away from pointy objects. They’ll also allow me to track you if we get separated.”

“When we’re finished with tonight, we should talk about your salary.”

She snorted. “You couldn’t afford me, Stormbourne. I’m here because I want to be, not because of money.”

“Tell that to our purse.”

“Just because I’m not looking to get rich off you doesn’t mean I intend to live like a pauper.”

“We’re almost there,” Gideon said in a harsh whisper. He leaned on the throttle, and the boat’s engine shuddered and growled, struggling against choppier waters and stronger currents.

“Do you see Taviano?” I asked.

“I can’t see a damned thing in this gloom.”

“Hold on.” Brigette closed her eyes, raised her hands, and wiped them across the darkness as though she were rubbing frost from a windowpane. Her gesture created a streak of brightness, and she peered through it. “There’s a figure on the beach. It could be Taviano.” She snapped her fingers, and her windowpane flashed, giving us a closer view, as if we were looking through a telescope. The figure on the beach wore a dark cloak and hood, but his sharp nose and hollow cheeks were unmistakable. “He’s here.”

She swiped her hand again, and the bright streak faded.

Gideon turned the wheel, and our boat swung about, prow pointing at the islet’s southern shoreline. Waves crashed on the beach in a steady bass beat. “I’m going to take us around and beach us on the bay side where the water’s calmer. We’ll meet up with him on foot.”

“He told us to meet him at midnight,” I said.

Gideon nodded. “We have plenty of time.”

After running our boat aground in calmer waters, we disembarked and dragged the cruiser higher on the beach—a pale strip of land that rose sharply into dark, limestone cliffs. Pausing, we waited while Brigette smoked a preemptive dose of djageesh.

“How’s the pain?” I squeezed her shoulder.